Temporary Until Permanent
by Lowlife Swaggy Suzi
Summary: Clary has always known pain. It is something she's always been able to deal with, but being alone and nameless... That is a Hell the young girl never knew. Rated T for sexual themes, drug and alcohol use, mild swearing, and depression.
1. Nameless

**New York City**

Toothpaste bubbles sat at the bottom of the sink, as I rubbed the rest off of my lips. They bubbled and popped waiting to be rinsed down the rusting drain. My eye itched and my stomach hurt. It was September 8th, the day when hell was about to be let lose. There was a clear buzzing noise in the back of my head, but I chose to ignore it simply because it always happened. The invisible fly inside my mind flicked itself around and ate at my brain. I could feel its mind-numbing buzzing inside of my skull. It was stronger today. Perhaps that was a sign.

The house was still dark. The dull morning sun hadn't chosen to rise; it was sleeping in at five-thirty. That's weird. Usually the sun rose and bugged the shit out of me because it could. It made New York look happy. I scratched at my eye, which was now red. I looked like a stoner. Well, I guess that's not entirely untrue. I can't lie and say I don't snort a few grams once and a while. My lips were chapped, too, and my heart burned. I couldn't find my medicine. Maybe Mom had thought it was her pills.

The floor of the living room was filthy and Mom's newest boyfriend was passed out on the couch with a beer bottle in his hand. That's real attractive. He had a single drop of drool hanging out of his mouth. His eye was black, probably where some guy had punched him. His clothes seemed to be in tethers, but he at least had one shoe. It was a nice shoe, it almost shined in the dull light of our apartment. I hated him.

My brain-eating fly friend was buzzing desperately in my head now as I made my way for the door. It wanted to be free and get out of my head, but it was ramming itself against my brain instead. Maybe it would dull the pain a little. There was nothing up there it could destroy any further. It was fried and empty. My mind was a pit of blackness. Depressing, right? I'm turning into one of those people, those people who just become grey blobs on the street. Those people that hold cardboard signs that say things about their lives and their screw ups. How their families hate them or their father died when they were too young or how their mother drinks herself to sleep every night. I could picture it now.

New York is said to be the city that never sleeps. Always awake and operating. Not where I lived. It was deathly silent when I exited the house. The fall air seemed to whip itself against my face. My arms were bare and undefended against the sharp northern winds. Probably my own damn fault for forgetting my jacket. The cold was making me numb though, so at least that smoothed over the agonizing drone of the brain-eating fly. I walked to the bus stop where a lifeless hum from the streetlight rattled above me in the dark sky.

Greyhound buses around New York aren't usually in the best shape. This one was a piece of crap. The breaks squealed unhappily as it came to a stop in front of me. My ears screamed painfully from the screech as I entered into it. The floor was stuck with gum and dirty grunge and grime. I felt like the floor with all the various pieces sticking to it. I was so many parts and pieces that didn't match.

Sleepy blobs sat on the desolate bus. They were all grey and discolored like the rest of my world. Their eyes only saw the happy, delusional fog that surrounded all the normal people. Unlike me, they had a family, friends, and a home. Or perhaps one of them was like me, alone, but still walking. Still walking because for some reason, we didn't want to curl up on the ground and give the last breath of our lungs.

"Kid, this your stop?" The driver grunted from beneath the fat folds of his neck. He must have hated being that big, but I was opposed to even eating, so perhaps he was normal sized to me. I got up and tossed some change at him, leaving the fat driver and the blobs behind.

Crestview High is a shit hole of a school. It may be one of the top schools in the country, but no one knows anything. The teachers don't see anything that happens at our cookie-cutter school. They "hold us to a higher standard" and "expect us to resolve our problems with our diplomacy." Yeah, that's definitely going to happen, Crestview.

It was pretty, with the colonial brick and marble pillars in the front. It was charming and had a nice view of the city at the top of the school. A small rooftop garden was planted in a dome at the top of the building. The windows were wide and open, revealing the great and massive concrete jungle we lived in. There were plenty of great hangouts in the school, too. Since it had been built and founded in the time of the New York's founding, the founding fathers of the state had made sure there were plenty of back tunnels and underground passages. Last year, I had one biology class that was underneath the school, it had been pretty awesome. The inside wasn't too bad looking either, the large metal staircases wound throughout the building and abstract art hung from the walls. It was like a crazy mix of colonial, modern, and vintage all in one.

Upon entering I was greeted with a rush of peppy squeals from the cheerleading squad. Everyone in the school was a fake. They all laughed with glassy, fake eyes. Fake eyes that stared into oblivion at the tacky, pasted on smiles. The smiles fell off onto the ground and melted away at the end of the day. Nobody cared about anyone. We were a papier-mâché palace, delicate and barely dry. One ounce of water could have crushed the artificial world we all thrived in. Well, they all thrived in… I was alone.

Room 209 came in front of me looming like a massive villain of some child's tale. It was just the same as it had been my sophomore and freshman year…but now it was tainted. It was dirty and unclean. It was all because of _him_. I slowly made my way to a seat in the back of the bare classroom. The walls were empty and dull, but the teacher, Mr. Hendrix, was actually a really interesting guy. Not only did he play the guitar, but he was named after Jimmy Hendrix. Everyone loved him, except me. He was defiant of the ways of the school and probably even smoked a roofie once and awhile. He taught AP American History. I used to like history, now that was part of the happy age.

Whispers from all different parts of the room circled around me, suffocating me with their knives and harsh saws. They all thought they knew what happened last year. The bitches really had no idea. No one had any idea in their heads. Their brains were filled all the way to the top with lies and rumors and anecdotes. I don't know how they spoke with so many thoughts of jumbles of words in their heads. They must have drowned inside…

Hendrix came in and sat at his desk, propping his feet up on the wooden table top like he was a king. "Alright lesson 101, don't ever get hammered the night before the school year starts, okay?" Chuckles and calls of encouragement echoed around the tall room. The sounds carried up and around the towering walls of the classroom, making it ring with the annoying yelps of teenagers.

"Alright, alright get out your textbooks. Now, forget what you have previously learned about the National Bank in my previous classes, it was a giant conspiracy." I sighed and leaned back in my seat. My eyes shifted from Hendrix's sermons and to the outside world. It was pretty. To some degree it was sunny, the sun just barely breaking through the over casted sky and shining down on the small school garden. A blue jay flew across the window it danced around on the sky's currents, free from the burdens of the human life. I would have liked to fly. Even if I was a bird that lived for seven years, it would have been better than living in my hellish life.

"Fray, let's say that bird out there is your money, okay?" An internal groan came from within me. Why did he insist on calling his students by their last names? I looked at him with disinterested eyes. "It flies away, what does that mean? Oh, shit, your money's gone. Now what? Your husband's dead from the war, your sons are dead from the war, and your daughter can barely walk yet. What do you suppose you would have done?" I frowned and shrugged.

"Really, Ms. Fray, no idea?" I shake my head again.

"You would have gone to the National Bank. And that was how the government pulled you into its trap. See what I mean? The war could have easily been staged by Britain…" I turned my head as he went on prattling about a fake war, a fake government, and a fake life for the people. I hated him. The bell rang. I ran.

Running sometimes made me forget that it had happened. That it all had conglomerated into one bulging, breathing, living mess that made puke bubble at the bottom of my stomach. It was the serpent slinking up into my organs and eating them like they all did… Running made me forget that it had been them and him and me… I ran from Hendrix's classroom, a scream threatening to tear at my throat. My nails curled into my skin digging deep into the layers of the earth that dug holes to China and back. I slipped on a step and fell. There was laughter. Blurred and indefinite faces that formed into monsters and creatures with claws and teeth.

Blood flowed down my face like wet velvet. It came like a waterfall shooting from rock and soil, bursting like lava from a new born volcano. My hands shook and reached for something, grabbing the next step and slipping over my blood which pooled around me by gallons and oceans. I shakily got to my feet and pushed through the laughing faces, falling into the bathroom. I grabbed the door to the first stall and slammed it behind me, sliding down against the cool metal of the door. The sleeve I had been wearing was soaked with my blood, I had been holding it there without any knowledge of my touch. There must have been part of me that wanted to keep on living. I smiled at that. Wouldn't that be something?

My hand pushed at the door of the stall, it opened slowly and I walked out looking at my broken face in the mirror. My nose was still wheezing bubbles of blood from my left nostril and small red streaks of blood touched the flyaways around my face. The small scars of the old and ancient periods of my life still circles in elegant loops and circles across my skin. They blazed forth as my thoughts touched the memories, and the same old emptiness erupted within my stomach. I wished the fly in my head would hurry up and eat the last pieces of my brain, already. The green eyes in the mirror looking back at me were empty and completely absent on any life, they were like buttons sown onto my skin. My hair hung around my face in rugged, natty orange clumps that ceased to live. Even my own skin was stark pale, I looked like a zombie. The marks that had once looped around my face still blazed slightly but they had died down. Everything had died down the hope, the demons, and the entire race of them. It was died down to a single word that screamed in the back of my mind and terrorized my dreams.

I left the bathroom, second period had started fifteen minutes ago and I was screwed as it was. With every step I took down the abandoned hall, void of every sound but my own feet, a jolt of fresh pain vibrated through my skull, the fly didn't like being disturbed. The headaches didn't last long, they were temporary, they could go and come as they pleased. They would suck the life out of me, but left enough just for me to carry on till the morning, when they return and attack me until my own name could barely be remembered. I welcomed them. I liked their pain and the numbing effect they gave my body, it was my own personal high. With the surreal feel all around me as the pain made my vision tunnel at the edges… I could have believed I had just popped a molly.

Second period was on the third floor. That would mean I was climbing stairs. Shit. There was a time when I could climb the three floors of stairs within thirty seconds, but that time came and went like the pain. My feet slowly went up them, taking them one at a time. The art work hung on the walls was phenomenal, probably done by the senior art class. There were splashes of color and light to brighten the metal stairs, but in my opinion, it was nothing but scribbles that burned in my vision long after I had left them. Finally, the feet touched third floor territory. The third floor had been renovated last spring, it smelled like Fabreeze and musk. The floor was marble, glossy from being freshly polished over the summer. My reflection stared up at me with dead eyes.

As I entered, the thirty sets of eyes all came to look at me, while Miss. Pellaway snapped at me to get in my seat. She kept rambling on about how disrespectful I was and how she was going to call my mother and I'm insubordinate and I need some manners and I'm always late and… My head hurt from her yelling, if she would just let me sleep some… I rested my head onto the cool desk. My mind going into overload. "Clarissa." She snapped. I raised my head to look at her. I didn't want to be called by that name. I wanted to have no name, no identity or face. The nameless people who wandered the streets as blobs were fortunate enough to receive no name. The blobs always got lucky, because they never had friends, friends that could be melted away within seconds because of one stupid decision.


	2. Simon

"**Clarissa! Don't you hear me?" Her scrutinizing eyes measure me like I am a fish ready to be gutted. I am a fish. **

_In my mind I'm screaming. _

Flies eat at my flesh leaving me like some old dead body of a broken girl.

My heart screams as each single artery in my veins are clogged.

My veins fill with poison.

Smoke fills my lungs from the poison, shoving itself down into my throat.

His arms reach out to save me.

One instant, it's fine, and I'm free.

The angel holds me in his arms.

Then I'm falling.

_In my mind I'm screaming. _

My hands reach for some broken cliff to hold onto.

I have nothing.

I fall into an abyss.

They laugh at me.

Their faces blur into glowing monstrous faces.

He follows me.

_In my mind I'm screaming. _

I am a mirror.

He sees through my glass and his eyes meet through me.

His hand reaches.

The glass shatters into thousands of kaleidoscope pieces shimmering like tidal waves.

All I am is a broken frame.

I am alone. I am nameless.

_In my mind I'm screaming. _

The dreams ends and I'm thrown into reality. My flesh sticks to my bones like silly putty barely hanging onto my muscle. The runes are glowing and I'm going to puke. They are killing me. The elegant circle around my wrist is slicing into my skin and suffocating the circulation. I want it to hurt more. It glazes over my vision and I'm seeing the stars. Stars that whisper in the dark and tell me I'm broken. They dance around with frightening speed and make me dizzy. _Broken… The blood pooling on the floor… _The fly wakes up in my head, he's mad. The buzzing is breaking everything inside of me, crumbling it to mush, so that my brain is just a swamp with dead things floating in it. _Fucking crazy… "Clary! You're-My God, Clary!" _

**"Clarissa Fray. Will you please pay attention?!" Miss. Pellaway hates me. She glared at me with her disapproving eyes. My voice was locked away into a dungeon, refusing to show itself. **

** "Miss. P, if I may?" Simon Lewis spoke to her. **

"_Simon, I'm dying inside…" My hands reach to his and he takes them inside of his own. There is warmth there that I can't anywhere else. My heart is broken through with a pickaxe and begins to beat a little. I am breathing. Poison resides some. The pain fades. He is my best friend. Simon looks at me and then there is cynical laughter that escapes from his lips._ _"You killed all of us, Clary." _

**Simon got up from his seat. His feet are soundless over the wood floor of the classroom. He grabs my wrist and yanks me out of my seat effortlessly. He's strong. I forget that. Once we're outside the classroom he pulls me into the library, it's abandoned. He adjusts his glasses and runs a hand through his untidy thick hair. There is an alfalfa at the back of his head that moves with every breath he takes. **

** "Clary, look, you gotta stop acting like this…" His dark eyes meet mine and I can tell he hasn't eaten in a while. I can see the hunger shining in them. He wants blood to pour into his mouth like silk. He wants to rip my throat out and watch the liquid spill over his teeth. He wants to see the light go out of my eyes. He wants the dead girl to cease to wander. **

** "Clary! Hey…" He takes my shoulders and holds them in his hands. Their warm. Damn it. "Are you listening to me?" **_One word resonating through the back of my head… _

**God bless Simon. He adjusts his glasses and takes my hand, leading me out of the library and up the stairs to the garden. There was a biology class up here; there are still some beakers and spare gloves splayed on the work table. The sky glimmers above us shining through the dome and hurts my eyes. He makes me sit on a bench near some honeysuckle. They bloom and smell beautiful. I want to puke. **

** "Why are you doing this to yourself, Clary?" There are flashes of color all around us. My eyes travel over to the roses **_a dead petal floats to the ground. His name hurts my head… The fly screams in my head. _**they are in full bloom. Their symmetrical centers seem to radiate a lovely smell that softens the buzzing in my brain. **

** "Doing what?" My voice finally cracks into the air. It's scared and dies after its first breath. **

** "God, Clary…" He swallows and there are tears in his eyes. "Look, if it's Jace your worried about…" **

** "**_**No!" **_**I scream and then I can't stop. I'm screaming. The screaming inside my head is unleashed from its tethers and it wants to fill the room. The voice is filled with every sorrow in the world and it echoes across the empty dome. It reverberates through every fiber in my body. **_Everything dies, you bitch… _

**"Holy shit! Clarissa!" Simon shoves me to the ground, and holds a hand over my mouth. "Stop." And I stop. Everything does. **


	3. Ice and Paper

_Bitch. Slut. Bitch. Whore. Bitch. Fucking crazy. Whore. Slut. Bitch. Fuck up. Slut… Bitchslutmotherfuckerslutbitchwhorefuckinginsanemo therfuckupbitchsluthoeassholefuckup. "You ruined it, you ruined us all, Clarissa…" "The Law is harsh, but it is the Law." HarshlawClavelawruindusttoashesruinsbetrayerrunesw horeslutbitch. JaceJaceJaceJaceJacedeadthmotherfucker. Jonathan Christopher Lightwood._** I am ice. **

"Don't you get it, Jace?" I laughed my eyes meeting his. "We are more than what we perceive. We can arise to the occasion and take back what is ours; this is your gift… I believe in you." My own green eyes shimmered brightly as I met his gold ones.

"Clary, babe," he settled into his seat on the worn sofa, resting his lean arm around my shoulders. "My life has one reason, and that's you. There's no "higher-calling" crap. There's simply shadowhunting and you, and when push comes to shove, I don't give a damn about shadowhunting. 'For it always her, in the midst of my madness and acrimony, I have found thy piece of thy own heart and thy own soul.'" His wry smile dug into my heart, making me melt at the folds and corners.

"Am I supposed to throw myself dramatically into your arms, now?" My tone mocking and sarcastic, but a teasing glint twinkled in my eyes.

"You know, _Clarissa_, there are thousands of girls who would die to be you, right now. I mean, who wouldn't? I'm sexy, intellectual, and stomach-aching hilarious." He touched my face with his thumb, his touch making the runes ignite across the smooth curve of my cheek. "And besides _you-you bitch!" His face morphed hideously into one of betrayal and loss. "You did this!" Slutbitchwhore. "You're-You're- My God, Clary! You killed him. How?! Why?! Clary…" Clary's a bitch. Clary's a slut. Clary's fucking crazy. Last year her and- Motherfucker. Motherfucker. Motherfucker. BITCHSLUTWHORE. _

Simon and I sit at a coffee shop. He is fingering his mug nervously. He's scared to be seen with me. Isabelle would rip the dead heart from his chest if she knew he was with me. _One word resonating in the back of my mind… One word. One single tiny elegant word that screamed into my dreams and thoughts. She runs at me with a knife, her eyes are practically glowing with insanity. She has reason. She has every right to be mad. The roses are falling petal by petal in the background, each petal makes a crash as it falls to the ground. It hurts my ears. _His eyes are looking out into the grey sky. The sun is hiding. I would, too, if I could. My eye is itching more so than ever. He picks up on my constant scratching at it, the criticism leaks onto his forehead plain as day. He's mad. He wants to know why I'm smoking and drinking and snorting. He wants to know why. My voice is dead, it doesn't want to talk.

"Clary," his eyes catch the beautiful circle around my wrist. He sees the scars that are splitting the skin agonizingly around it. "You have to sever it. You have to or it will kill you." My eyes seem to be dead, too. He realizes he's talking to a corpse. My voice is rotted away and long forgotten by those who once knew me. He knew me. He forgot. **I am ice. **_Nameless. Nameless. Nameless. AloneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeNAAMEELESSSALONENAMELESSICEEE EEEEEEENAMELESS. _

"I'm worried about you. Clary, you could call the Clave, you could say something. Speak to them, tell them it wasn't you. I mean, Iz and Alec seem to think it was you… But, they only do it for Jace, Clary, tha-ˮ

_Falling petals and broken frames. One single petal sits on the center of the rose. It's about to fall to nothing, to the abyss, to hell. No one cares. Slutbitchwhorebitch. You live a life of fear, Clarissa Fray, live a life of victory and wealth. donttouchmyfamilyiwillhurtyoudontthinkiwontiamasha dwohunter. The Law is harsh, but it is the Law. Ruinruinruinruinruinruinruinruinruinruinruin. RUIN RUIN RUIN RUIN. The glass shards fall to pieces like drops of rain from a beautiful storm. They tear my skin from my emaciated body and show the chunks of paper beneath the skin. Paper that has one word written on it, I am one word. One despairing word. Paperglassmiracleshellheavenruinearth. Jace… His name is like wind. He is my hero. The rock of all currents. Jonathan Christopher Lightwood. _It falls. And the sound is deafening.

"Jace…" I swallow my voice is weak and misguided. It's starving and thirsty.

"He's- He's is worst shape than you, Clary, in all opinion. He's so jacked up he doesn't know which way's up." The voice dries up again and I am empty. I am a fifty-year old glass that collects dust that resides from fallen empires and kingdoms. I am a glass full of dust, signifying nothing.

"He misses you. I think, the most out of anything, and it kills him. It literally _kills _him he can't be with you." My life is a painting. Ragged and torn paint splattered across the once great painting, the faces and memories are faded and murky. There are burn marks all along the edges as if it will crumble at any given moment. I am a painting that is destroyed and written off as useless. I am invaluable. I am a bitch. I am a slut. I am a whore. _Onewordonewordonewordonewordwordworrdddwoorrrddddw oorrrrrrrrrrrdddd. _

Simon: "Why don't you talk to Jocelyn, Clary? I'm sure she's struggling just as much as you."

Clary: …

Simon: Exasperated sigh. "Weren't you the one who always told me to never lose hope, Clary? To have hope for the new beginnings that would come?"

Clary: …

Simon slammed his fist onto the table. The coffee sloshed over the rim and spewed across the counter. His eyes flared and the hunger is overwhelming him. He just wants to eat. He has an obligation to the whore, though. He can't leave her unattended or she might try to claw her heart out. "Say something, Clary! Jesus!"

"Hope dies, Simon. Just like your dad did. Just like Rebecca and your mother will. Just like we all will. We will all die." The dead girl got up and walked across the floor of the diner, opening the door with the motions of a robot. Another night wandering would be good for her. I needed a break from the living. Jocelyn would be gone, by now. Her boyfriend with the one shoe needed another night out. She would gladly go. It would get her mind off of the corpse sleeping in the next room. The fly is quiet now. He's sleeping. He sleeps just like everything else. Except for me. _You're fucking crazy. Insanebitchslutwhoremotherfucker. I HATE YOU. I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL. Rothelldeathhellrotrotrotrotrotrothellrotdeath. SimonJaceSebastianJonathanMagnusIsabelleAlecMaxSim onJaceSebastianJonathanIsabelleAlecMax. Clary. Claryclaryclaryclaryclaryclary. Die. Die. RUINRUINRUINRUINRUINRUIN. YOU ROT IN HELL, BITCH. Forever I will love her. For all of the days of my life shall I love her. For it was always her… We are made to live for bigger things. We are meant to perform the impossible. Live for victory. It is for your own good. In all the days of my life, I have never hoped to find you, but I did. I found you, my best friend, I found you. NONONONONONONONNONONONONONO. Listen to me, you are beautiful, do you understand? I don't care if your hair is a carrot or not, you're my light. The light turned off. BITCHSLUTWHORE. HOW COULD YOU DO THAT. DODODOTHATTOODOTHATTODO. _Silence. It all shut off. Like a switch in the back of my mind the voices stopped screaming. I knew why. Automatically. My nerves scream. I know he's there.

"Have you showered since September?" My feet stumble over the tremendous weight that now stands upon them. The Institute towers above us. How did I walk here? How in God's name did I reach from Fifth Street to here? "You look kind of rough there, Clarissa." His voice is slurred. He's drunk. His eyes seem to glimmer like stars. They shine so bright that they could make the Earth light up. "You gonna say hello, or just stand there and stare at me?"

My arms want to wrap around him. I want to tackle him to the ground and squeeze the love from him. My heart skips, and I know the corpse is coming to life. She's breathing again. The ice is melting and slipping into puddles around my ankles. Every nerve in my body is tuned towards him, like he is my lighthouse in the blackest night. "Y-You…" I breathe.

"What's left of him." His golden eyes looked frosty in the dusty twilight. The sun touched down on his hair making it shine like freshly formed gold. He could have sprouted wings and become the angel that haunted my dreams.

"S-sss-sorry… I-I…" My voice is tripping over every single word. I can't even make words my tongue is tied from his eyes.

"I wonder why I don't just kill you. The Clave wanted to, you know. But I loved you, so how could I let you be killed? I mean, you ripped my heart out, so we'd be even… We'd be equal." His voice is empty like the distant sound of a voice that is lost in the wind. He's frayed and shifty. I knew him when his mood was like this. At a moment's notice he could try to rip through my flesh and let me bleed here on the street. I swallow.

"Are you that pathetic you're still drawing the runes onto your skin? By the Angel, Clarissa." His words poke holes into my chest. I'm bleeding out around his feet. I am empty.

"I-I-I do it tttt-to nev-vver forget…" My voice is dry and sparse like tumbleweed lolling across the empty desert plains.

"Forget what? The betrayal, the sex, and the pain you caused all of us? If I were you, I'd drown myself. It would make me feel a whole lot better about life." Agony burns hot holes into my heart. I didn't think that it was possible to burn to even smaller pieces of paper. My insides are squeezing together and my breath escapes outside my throat in uncontrolled fits. The sky is blurring and the stars are laughing and he's gone… I know he's left because the whispers and the voices are creeping into my head again. _BITCHSLUTWHOREE. YOU RUINED IT. YOU KILLED HIM. ineedyoujaceimsorryiwillneveryoureabitchihateyoumo therfuckerslutwhorebitchdiegotohellrottrotrotrotRO TROTROTROT. Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. I am iceiceiceiceice… I am a hole in the ground filled to the top with mud and blood. JaceJaceJaceJace… To regret deeply is to live afresh. And she was the saddest word of all time it wasn't even time until it was… I am rotting in a hole deep in the ground my skull is singing and ancient tune. _Am I dead? Death is laughing at me. Satan smirks from his corner of Hell. You are dead as long as your soul rests in my palm, Clarissa. DeceitEvilHate… God is not the only one with his sons of Heaven… Deceitthemotherofliesandtricksevilthequeenofhellan dhatethedaughterofevetheyareFUCKYOUtheyareBITCHSLU TWHOREtheyarewhereveryoufindthemintheshadowofSatan ando'eredenanduntiltheFathersaysRisewewillbehereaw aitingyouuntilthedaythattheFathersaysCome _One word resonating in the back of my mind like a bell atop the great Church of Heaven. One word striking terror into me for all of eternity. I am but one word to the millions that make up the life of us and who are you to find me and why am I and I said to him that we are all killers and he said death shall not serve itself to those who do not deserve it and then I screamed and the blood pooled around the single petal that rested atop its beautiful iron colored surface and I wished that the roses would bloom in june and I said that I would be back by December and Deceit Evil and Hate wanted to kill me and I wished to stop the car and I wanted to squeeze the love out of him _**I am ice. **


End file.
